The fetchling sits quietly with his arms folded on his person, glancing between the half-orc and the dhampir. He speaks, his voice soft and hoarse, as if it has been damaged by something. "Heff's wants to give them the Yenrick assignment."
"Hell, will that man never cease? We've already lost two entire squads trying to get that done." He looks at you. "No offense, but I don't think this should be an infiltration mission."
"It's Heff's mission and he'll handle it the way he wants to."
Jasper goes back to smirking at the party. "So what has he offered you? Has he been vague or just told you it's for 'good reasons'"?
Dalton gazes about the council, feeling they were what true nobility should be. Obtaining their title and status through merit. He had no doubt each of them was sharp and deadly in their own way.
Giving a slight bow, he responded to the Dhampir. "Both - and where I'm from, "good reasons" are usually good only so long as they stay vague. Eh ... please ... could you enlighten us further?" The wizard didn't want to be too acute to his betters, but Heff's absence was the perfect time to get a fresh, unbiased perspective on the group - and this job.
Jasper barks another laugh. "Both, that's a new one. You sound like a man who has to deal with too much politics." His smile fades, but he almost appears friendlier for it. "He likes to call it 'preventative measures'. Although I do agree with him. The slavers in Yenrick have always ruled their personal domains with an iron fist and the power struggle between them has been never-ending. But one of them is trying to unite the rest of the major slavers, but for what we don't know." He puts his smirk back on, but it's an edge less mocking. "Press him for something, he's been wanting to get this done for awhile now."
"He also promised wealth, knowledge, and connections for when good reasons don't fill the belly."
Toramin pauses to glance at Bjorkus' remembering a recent dearth of wealth, knowledge, and connections. "But all such things are equally vague. Promises and sentiment are often wind; little stone to them. The truth is that we know next to nothing about your group, your motivations, your means, your goals, or even why persons as diverse as a paladin and an ex-pirate would care to be a part of them. Heff claims that you are independent of Andril, but given the level of collusion I have seen it beggars my imagination. He also claim that you are suspicious of us. I cannot speak for all of us, but I'm equally suspicious of you. That truth isn't wind; it's stone."
"I'm in the business of killing people and I can't stand the way he works."
Kroak places a fist on the table. "We do not limit our reach for any reason. This organization watches over the land as a whole and so we must be a part of every piece that makes it up. Here you will find paladins, drow, hellknights, dwarves, pirates, elves, and everything in between. Our motivations are to keep the land safe, free from tyranny and malicious lies. When the Rough Beast Rovagug stirred to eat all that ever was or will be, all of the gods united, even Asmodeous and the other princes of evil to put an end to his rampage. And so it is that all who are not mad unite for our cause to keep the land safe from those who would ravage it."
Drosil speaks up. "I do not apologize for my suspicions. Too many times those who would see the world end attempt to infiltrate our organization. We know nothing of you beyond your accomplishment in Xilres."
"The only one of you we truly trust is Toramin, and that is because our contacts in the dwarf's stone halls say he is a tried-and-true paladin."
An unbounded reach. It was always about power. Dalton's heart sank a bit. The mask is different, but the desire the same: influence, control... While not under the yoke of his childhood anymore, he merely had a little latitude with different masters. Masters of considerable power beyond that of a scepter for once, but the semantics didn't matter.
Two can play this game though.
"Then do not trust us. Let our actions speak. Master Krokar has already alluded to our success with the usurper, even if it was in a less-than-tasteful method to some. Unlike whomever was involved in that pickle of a situation at the bank, I am no illusionist; I prefer what I can see, hear, and feel for real. If we have faulted or wronged you, I apologize, but if mere suspicion bars our consideration, perhaps it is best you select those already trusted by you for this task." Dalton paused a moment. Like haggling for my necklaces, but now we're the ones for sale. It was time to see if they were truly interested or just browsing. "I imagine little escapes your collective gaze." Though he did mean to refer to the group in earnest, his eyes came to rest on the silent woman. One could not lie to her.
Älia shifts, and the others all fall dead silent as she speaks. Her voice is quiet and commanding, clear as a bell and has the accent of the old land, an accent long dead. "Do not dare presume we lie to you half-breed. Each of us sitting at the table has sacrificed more than you will ever know to create this. If we aspired for the power you believe we are ravenous for then we would not be asking this of you. We deign to use free thinking spirits of the world for our members instead of one nation's resources. To do so would advance their purposes instead of the world's."
Krokar waits to make sure Älia is done speaking. "Aye, we could very well simply ask Andril for the resources and sweep through Yenrick like a wave, but then Andril would claim they were owed something for it. We have already sent two separate strike teams on this mission but they both failed, losing us many good men. So here we are, trying less conventional methods."
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"It is good that you are suspicious of us and that we are suspicious of you. For, in this situation, there is much of which to be suspicious."
The dwarf gestures taking in everyone -- everyone -- in the room. "It is only when we are open and honest about our doubts that the foundations of trust can be built. While trust can lead to new beautiful works, it can also lead to ruin.
So, in good faith, I will be very clear about my concerns. My concerns are two fold. The first concern is philosophical. Yours is an idealistic organization. What is the epistemology of these ideals? How are they negotiated and constituted in practical, political realities. The second concern revolves around incentive, renumeration, and pursuit of personal goals.
Krokar, you speak quite well of the common weal. The universal good of all peoples as one people is an ideal close to my heart. But, the difficulty is how is that weal known? By whom is it decided? Not all threats are existential ones. What ideals do a hell-knight and a paladin share in common? Little and less, I would wager. She and I might believe in strong unified governments, but vastly disagree on how such governments should be constituted and how they should represent their citizenry.
Perhaps, you might argue that you do not deal in the common weal but only in threats that target all conceptions of the good life. But, even this remains a practical concern. For example, I am interested in your organization because I helped stop a genocide. I would like to stop others. They are a threat to the universal weal. This may seem a pure ideal, but it can not be divorced from political realities. Mass killings occur when elites believe that they can no longer constrain the actions of their elite competitors, and decide that the best solution in dealing with these unconstrained competitors is by annihilating those competitors base of support. Ideals are made manifest only through practical and political actions. Both are quite messy and can muddle one's ideals.
The second concern is much more mundane, but no less a concern. When your organization was first introduced to us on of its selling points was that we would help you pursue laudable ideals for which we in return would receive vast contacts, wealth, and knowledge to pursue our own personal goals. That, though we may die unsung in shallow graves, on our downtime we would have the resources need to pursue our beauty our truths with unmatched opportunity.
Again, in the pursuit of being completely honest this has more appeal to some of us than others. I have few material desires. I will live my life -- however long or short it may be -- pursuing causes and enacting strategies I deem righteous. But, should I need something, I need but ask. My family is phenomenally wealthy. Asking may bring me shame, but it also frees me from many concerns that others would find most pressing. That is the privilege of the wealthy: that our preferences and goals are not as tightly determined as others. I would welcome the resources of your organization insofar as they further free me from may family's politics to so that I may pursue my ideals. The same can not be said for all of my fellows. Master Dalton is not responsible only from himself, but also for his mother. Bjorkus must rescue his crew. What may we actually expect from you?"
Not a human organisation at all. Hellknights. Hmmm. "How do the governments of nations view the organisation?"
Bjorkus snorts in disdain but remains silent. He wanted to hear more about this Yenrick mission before he showed his hand.
Not a human organisation at all. Hellknights. Hmmm. "How do the governments of nations view the organisation?"
"They don't." Drosil says flatly.
"Indeed, you noticed Heff's work in Xilres. We only helped organize and empower the people there that already wanted to revolt. We agreed with their cause so we helped them. Andril is the only nation that is aware of us, that we are aware of."
After he finishes speaking, Toramin's gear-like mind starts organizing and comparing the data they had collected.
Given how many fingers they have in so diverse a number of pots, it seems almost delusional if they don't think that mature governments are not aware of the pressures they are exerting upon them. Perhaps, that is a lie? Given that . . . Drosil (?) . . . just said there have been past attempts (?) successes (?) in infiltrating this organization. Also, odd that they idolize some dead dragon king. Few all powerful rulers -- no matter how benevolent or philosophical -- advocate for the liberty of their subjects.
"How have you kept yourselves secret if some have tried to infiltrate you?"
"How have you kept yourselves secret if some have tried to infiltrate you?"
"It is not nations that attempt to infiltrate us. The drow clans, the giant kings, the pirate lords. Yes the other nations are probably aware of us to some degree, but we're not an easy group to track. They have suspicions and nothing more."
"We believe in truth and freedom." Heff steps back in, carrying numerous scrolls with him. "We are enemies to slavers and governments who would abuse their people through propaganda and lies. Andril believes they house us in exchange for a softer hand when they do something immoral. We let them believe that. The Hand's Council makes all of the major decisions, but we hear anything the other member's of the Aestherics have to say and take it into consideration. If it could be organized the Aestherics would be a complete democracy, but with our size it would be messy and unpractical, so us five attempt to represent the wants of the people." He steps over to a dial in the wall, placing his hand on it. "All people. We are the arm that acts upon the whims of the many. We listen in the shadows for what they cry out for but are afraid or unable to do. We give strength to those who need it." Heff turns the dial, and a long tube of stone in the wall lights a pale green. The tube runs out through the ruins and throughout the entire underground, symbolizing the upcoming meeting.
Toramin looks at the assembled Hand, seeing, if they, who had been here the entire time had anything else to add. The second concern had gone completely unmentioned, and the first . . . well further dialogue is needed.
"Forgive me if I being difficult, but whose truth and what kind of freedom? There is a truth in destruction which I would not gladly embrace. The truths affirmed by a hell knight are not the same as those affirmed by a paladin for both truths have been inscribed into the cosmos by rival gods. That is messy. Think how much messier this gets when we come to competing tenets held by people. Is this a freedom negative: a freedom from something? Or, is this freedom positive: a freedom to do something? Is it both? How do we know it? Two words can encompass entire worlds; it is up to us to give formal concepts their content."
The dwarf would be better with a pen than a pickaxe, Dalton noted, trying his best to gauge the council's reaction to the little philosopher.
"You confuse ideals with truths, one of stone. We do not advance a single idea of truth, simply truth as it is, in all it's beauty and harshness. We remove the masks and distortions others would thrust upon it. Freedom is the same, each person should live to their own idea of freedom so long as it does not limit the truth or freedom of others. Our ideas are not complex. We believe the people should know the world as it is and should be able to shape it as they desire. We are but humble servants of the whims of the many. Our side is with the majority. Small power struggles do not interest us." She blinks, and with a chill you realize this is the first time she has blinked the entire discussion. "In short, we keep powerful men from abusing their positions."
There's another pause as the drow finishes. "As for your reward, you talk to me about that. This is not an ordinary mission so I do not expect to give you an ordinary reward. What would each of you wish for compensation?"
Not one to judge others on matters of biology and familiar with the gravitas of elders, Toramin is not particularly chilled by the elder's blinks or lack thereof.
"Do I, esteemed elder? Toramin said with a smile, happy that someone was engaging in the moral weight of a secret organization. "So, your organization affirms that all individuals are autonomous -- laws unto themselves -- with the caveat that none should impinge upon the autonomy of another. Then you must also be deeply concerned about how the practice of these freedoms come into conflict. Our freedoms are not curtailed only by slavers and tyrants. Each action and inaction shapes the foundation of not only our future choices but the very possibilities others can choose between. How do your know where to dig when the seam is not so simple? How do you, esteemed elder, choose between freedoms when things are complex."
"You do." The council looks at the drow for a moment. You wait a good thirty seconds, but the other council members seem content to wait. "No mortal can see the implications of every decision, the ripple of time escapes our view. In the brief glimpse of the moment we gather what facts there are and make a decision here in these hallowed halls. It would be ignorant to say we have not made mistakes, nor will we never make another, but to ere and to learn is the existence of our short lived races. Here we would minimize the mistakes made through ignorance, pride, and greed."
The other council members continue to glance at Älia, giving you the feeling she rarely speaks this much. Other Aestheric members begin arriving on the scene, and they are as varied as the land itself. Every race is present from humans to drows to dwarfs and everything in between. Children sit on the steps with warriors, clerics sit with hellknights, druids sit with paladins. Roughly sixty people are present, but some file in and out as time passes. It appears that a normal council meeting is open to the public.
Yenrick, Rilka thinks, wondering if anyone she knew was on the two teams that have been lost.
She stands at parade rest, arms behind her and eyes focused on whomever is speaking. As the new recruits challenge the Five, she listens to their concerns, their questions, their philosophical outlook. Better for all involved to speak their minds now to understand what each group expects of the other. The Aestherics cultivate free-thinking independent people so debates are bound to happen.
After Krokar asks what they want as compensation, Rilka straightens. ”I would like permission to intern in the First Guard’s laboratory for as time permits. If that is not acceptable, I would like to read the oldest books on halfling history in the Aestherics’ library.”
All this talking and still nobody's said anything. Unable to take the hot air any longer, the bull clears his throat and speaks.
"So what's goin' on in Yenrick and what do ya need us for? You mentioned slavers. Are you breakin' up a slavin' ring or something?"
The exchange going on combined with the newcomers arriving kept Dalton's senses occupied while his mind thought of a reward. They are making this to be a formidable task. But if they're going down the road of thought, I suppose a reward to suit would be appropriate. The magister cleared his throat.
"I would remedy the mistakes of my youth. Nothing too exposed, I assure you, but we all have our regrets." So many lost years...
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Toramin bows his head respectfully. "Thank you, esteemed elder. Viska þín heiðrar mig.
Strangely, it was the humility of her answer that convinced the dwarf of the sincerity of this council. She did not provide a universal standard for evaluating competing freedom. In fact, she suggested that it was impossible, but they worked to be better. The dwarves had a concept for this position: menntun. It meant growth and self-cultivation. It was not a school of thought he embraced but it was one he greatly respected. And for this reason, he thanked her with the traditional blessing reserved for the Voices in the Stone and other rarified dwarven elders.
The old dark elf inclines her head, understanding and accepting the sign of respect.
Krokar answers Rilka quickly. "Done. That costs us nothing and even could stand to give us growth as it places another member inside the castle and furthers your training. Is there anything else you wish?"
The half-orc considers Dalton. "You would have to go into more detail about these mistakes, uthruku. I understand well the mistakes of youth."
As Toramin said earlier, money had little weight on his mind. His food, clothing, and housing were paid for by others while he stayed in Theris. Was it paid for by the Aestherics, Andril, or his family? He didn't know. He had never even thought to ask. As a son of the head family of the Trealamhgabha clan, such concerns had never come up. He had never asked for expensive items because that would require asking. Thus it was to knowledge that his thoughts turned when he considered rewards.
"I would like to increase my mechanical knowledge and creative expertise. Is it possible to build machine powered by something besides magic? How were the Theris Vaults carved by fire?"
Do they know that I came from Yenrick before I left? How could they not. The slavers will be some of my own relatives.
Lindale watches the spectators as they come and go, not at all put off by others being there but surprised. "How did the other teams fail at Yenrick? Has any information been brought back from those missions?"
When the reward for completing the mission is mentioned Lindale looks at the others as some of them say their piece.
Krokar looks at Toramin, thinking for a moment. "I am no engineer, but I know some who are. I hear talk of men in the south who build marvels beyond imagination with no magic. I shall look into it."
"The area that was Theris before humans built upon it was the domain of Heilrash the collector, a brass dragon who was the keeper of treasures for the metallics. He spent most of his years melting and shaping metal with the fire from his belly to create a secure vault where his fellow metallic dragons might keep their things safe from the chromatics. The entire vault is one piece, unbroken."
Drosil looks down. "We know nothing of what happened. When the teams failed to report back we scryed upon them, only to learn they were corpses buried in the sand."
Toramin looks a little disappointed. Bah, dragon-fire. I bet the same could be accomplished with highly focused beams of light.
Oddly touched by the rough Orc's diction, Dalton expands upon his request.
"I have spent my life being diligent, perfecting craft of the mundane and arcane. But for all my labor, I am empty." He sighs. "I harbor no hatred towards my common man, but I ... I cannot find friendship nor love nor belonging. No matter how much I try, it seems positive emotions are becoming less reachable with each passing year. My mother remains, and I have done the best I could for her, but she will be gone soon as well. I fear with her, the last of my humanity will escape, leaving just a bitter husk of a man that could have been."
The wizard hesitates, suddenly aware he said more than he wanted. Damn my mouth!.. Well, the Drow would have pried it out of me anyway. Or not. Dalton wasn't sure if she could understand the Orcish or if she was even interested in his story, but he just had a feeling her eyes saw everything.
In common: "Erm, forgive me; I do not mean to be rude, but I felt it respectful to try and respond in kind." It had been some time since he'd wielded the Orcish language. No doubt it was clumsy from him, but he had the syntax down. He turned back to Krokar.
Toramin hears the strange words pour from Master Dalton's mouth, but he pays them no mind. Light could be focused. Focused sufficiently it could be used to burn. But the specifics on how such a thing could be accomplished on an industrial scale still eluded him.
Ugh. I know it should be possible: sufficiently advanced technology would be indistinguishable from magic.
Krokar looks upon Dalton with a gleam of sadness.
As the stone steps and the open hall begin to fill with the members of freedom, the council members all have different reactions. Heff waves to numerous people with a smile, calling many by name and asking how they're doing. Krokar ignores them and takes out a small journal that he begins writing in. Drosil seems to shrink under the presence of more people, drawing his hood up again. Jasper gazes from person to person with a cold stare, and Älia continues to remain stoic.
The talking lowers to a murmur as the light from the tube fades. Heff kisses the hand of a blushing half-elf and with a sweep of his cape returns to the table. "Well I believe I'm on the clock so I'll get right into it." He closes his eyes, then makes some slow motions with his hands and whispers "Yobhakcho trilvol." A detailed image of Yenrick from a bird's eye view appears on a large enough scale for everybody to see. The image is incredibly detailed, and included with it are the sounds of the desert winds sweeping and the smell of the dry sand. Most amazing is the heat coming from it, you almost feel as if you are actually in Yenrick.
"Yenrick. The land of sand controlled by greedy men." A gesture, and nine faces appear in the corner. "The nine Slave Princes." Eight of them fade out and the other one grows larger so it can be seen better. It shows a middle aged man with neat, combed back hair and a close-trimmed beard. His eyes are yellow and slitted like a cats, with an ugly scar through his left one. "Targ the Twice Taken. And just to give you some perspective..." An image of Heff appears next to him, and judging from the size distance you would place Targ at nearly 15 feet tall. "He has giant's blood. The monster is smart, cruel, and ungodly strong." He points to the holy symbol on Targ's chest. "And he's a devout follower of Gorum. Targ likes three things: Fighting, women, and rarities. He achieves all of these desires with slaves. Now meet his beloved, Acera." A new image appears. "Targ bought her as a slave, then attempted to kill her when she challenged his authority. See the scar?" He traces the massive scar from the top of her head that continues along the length of her body, disheartening into her scant clothing at her chest and appearing again at her torso. "He cut her neatly in half. And then the two halves knitted themselves back together and got back up. He was fascinated with the magic and took her as his wife, which she accepted. She's perceptive as hell and the main reason why it's so hard to get close to Targ."
The two people disappear as the map zooms in, then about a third of the area gets highlighted in red. The shape is an "L" that has been turned 180 degrees, connected to the east border of Andril and the northern border of Gesthil. Roughly a tenth of the area in the southwest border is not highlighted. "This is Targ's domain. In it you better be one of three things: A slave, a slaver under Targ, or dead." Heff grins with amusement. "Although he considers the merchants he works with just another type of slave, so I suppose four kinds of people. Anyways, we normally keep our nose out of their business with the exception of a few spies. We'd like to put an end to their reign and slavery in general, but the area is too vast and the Princes too strong to oppose with our resources. Normally the power struggle between the nine keep them occupied and away from the other nations, with a few exceptions like the drug trade. But then Targ began having diplomatic meeting with the other princes, and amongst the slaves and servants is the talk of war."
Heff grows solemn. "What we fear is the princes are massing their armies to march upon Gesthil. We don't believe they would attack Andril first since they have a much stronger military force, although it is possible. What we don't have is any proof. Any attempt to infiltrate their meetings has been met with failure and death. That's where you five come in." He gestures at the party, holding one hand towards the image. "Our idea is thus: Dalton shall enter Targ's territory under the pretenses of a rising slaver who wishes to serve under Targ. The rest of you shall be his slaves, with Bjorkus being the main bait. Half-minotaurs are a rare thing and Targ will jump at the opportunity to own one. Right now the mission is purely information gathering, but you advised to use your judgement in this foreign territory and deadly force is authorized. Once you gain the relevant information or need an extraction you will break this." He places a simple golden ring on the table. "We will contact you within minutes with how you should proceed. So, any questions from the inner ring?" He inner ring refers to the council members and the involved Aestheric members, in this case the party. The outer ring consists of everybody else in the area.
Science flitting away in the face of more practical matters Toramin asks, "Do you know the provenance of Acera's healing capacities? Or her motivations for helping him?"
The lad told me that the antipaladin couldn't be killed. Maybe this is a more common magic than I thought.
"Also, how does Targ maintain the loyalty of those who enforce his reign? Personal strength has its limits when it comes to expansive governance. Who are his main competitors? Are there any in his domain or surroundings that represent an alternative to his rule? How does he delegate authority?"
"Good, at the very least. We can't be sure of her motives, but this talk of war did not begin until a few months after she showed up." With another gesture two more faces appear. "Moha the brave. A female half-orc with the guts to spit in a dragon's face. She refuses any diplomatic contact with Targ and kills any of his followers found in her realm, for reasons we do not know. And Wremch Fire-Tongue. A halfling who commands the loyalty of the beasts of the sand and can breathe fire. Targ insulted his size and his woman, and Wremch has never let it go. He holds a grudge like a dwarf."
Krokar grunts. "This land has different laws than ours. Fear and honor is all that binds a man. Targ is a cruel monster, but most of those directly underneath him he treats with a certain level of dignity. He values loyalty and rewards it well. And everybody else is just scared s%*#less of him. Mildly insult him and he'll gut you with his bare hands."
Bjorkus snorts in disdain when the mission summary is complete. ”So you want us to sneak into this gods forsaken place, ruled by a soddin’ giant, with most of us pretendin’ to be gutless slaves. Once we’re inside we’re supposed to learn about Targ and his whore’s plans and get out. That about cover it?”
”Sod off. So far I’ve help you lot kill a king and stop a bank heist. What do I have to show for it? Doin’ good doesn’t get my crew back. Servin’ freedom doesn’t find my ship”, the minotaur rumbles.
Jasper breaks out in laughter, shattering the seriousness of the gathering. The others stare at him, and after a moment he manages to reign in his amusement to an occasional chuckle. "You know - haha - he's right you know. Well the second part anyways. As for the first part, you'll most likely lead any other forces we send in if we decide to make a move on Targ."